


Wild Lavender

by waffle_Atronach



Series: Companion Shenanigans [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Companions, Error 404 Tags not found, F/M, Farkas is too good for this world, Feelings Realization, I hate tagging, I love natural hair it's so pretty, Knotting, Loss of Control, Natural Hair, Nord, Porn With Plot, Redguard - Freeform, Rough Sex, Slight Femdom, Slight dubcon in the first chapter, Smut, Vilkas is a grumpy puppy, Werewolf, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves, brain empty no thoughts, partially transformed werewolf sex, screw it I'll work on it later, woc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30130911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffle_Atronach/pseuds/waffle_Atronach
Summary: Original Prompt: NOT YOUR TYPICAL F!REDGUARDRedguards have a reputation for being fierce, tough warriors, but I'd love to see a story about one who is definitely not that. Maybe she's an artisan, a noblewoman, a chef, a thief who relies on stealth and slight-of-hand... Whatever her background, she's short, petite and can't fight worth shit. And finds herself in Skyrim, land of large, hairy warriors.⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️Farkas has been acting off lately, and his twin is determined to figure out why. Other things have to come first, though, such as guarding Jorrvaskr's new healer while she collects supplies, and fighting down his own inner wolf who sees her as the most interesting of prey.
Relationships: Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Companion Shenanigans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216940
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	Wild Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, this thing ended up with a much larger word count than usual. Trust Vilkas to play hard to get...

Throughout all the centuries since its foundation, through the various creeds and politics of its members, there was one truism that held Jorrvaskr fast: Act with Honor. Sneaking around was frowned upon. It suggested someone was up to something dishonorable. Farkas, at least, had taken this to heart, and walked out the front door whistling.

The other Circle members watched in various poses of exasperation and suspicion, leaning up against the pillar just inside the door, Aela half-sitting on the banister.

“Did anyone see him take a job?” Skjor asked, sounding doubtful.

“Nope,” Aela replied, a half-smile tugging at her face. “He hasn’t taken a job half the times he’s walked out this door for months.”

“He’s definitely going out to fight something,” Vilkas sighed, running his hand through his hair before dropping it resignedly. “He’s being cagey, and that’s not like Farkas.”

“Come now, Vilkas, it’s about time Farkas got his own life rather than following you around like you’re attached at the hip,” Aela crossed her arms, smirking.

“The cageyness concerns me, too, Aela,” Skjor frowned up at her. “I haven’t actually caught him lying, but he definitely is up to something.”

The redhead raised her eyebrows at him, shifted her gaze to Vilkas, then snorted. “And I thought Ice-Brain was the obtuse one,” she muttered in disbelief, shoving herself off the banister. “Well, if you two just want to stand around gossiping, I’m going to go practice.”

The men watched her go in puzzlement. “You get the feeling she knows something we don’t?” Skjor grunted.

“It’s Aela,” Vilkas’ tone was heavy with resigned acceptance. “She always does.”

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

It had been two days since his brother left, and Vilkas had decided that enough was enough. He was going to confront Farkas about his secrecy, and discover what his twin was hiding.

Lycanthropy being what it was, he never slept very well, remained an early riser no matter how much drinking or carousing went on the night before. Aela greeted the dawn with him some days, and while he was certain Skjor and Kodlak were awake, they stayed in their rooms until breakfast. Farkas, for some reason, always slept like a babe. Vilkas found himself wondering how that was as he helped himself to some of the short loaves of bread, apples, and cheese Tilma always left out for breakfast.

A faint, firm knock on the door arrested his movements, and he turned to frown at it, wondering why someone would come see them before the birds even started their predawn chorus. Glancing around, he sighed and put his breakfast down, brushing off his hands and going to tell their visitor to come back later.

He wrenched the door open, then jerked his gaze down at the woman with her hand upraised to knock again.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, eeling around him without waiting for him to get his bearings enough to tell her off. “It’s cold out there.”

Quirking his lips in irritation, he shut the door and turned to examine her. The scent of lavender and heat followed her, the same that clung to the Alik’r mercenaries that kept popping up. Given their shared heritage, he guessed it must be what Hammerfell smelled like. The Redguard looked up from warming her hands at the central firepit and smiled uncertainly at him. Her tightly curling black hair was pulled back in a large, round bun on the back of her head, a few short escapees brushing the sides of her face. The breezy cream tunic under her russet vest was clearly not meant for cold climates, though the tan and blue knitted shawl was probably bought after she crossed the border. No wonder she was cold.

“I’m looking for Kodlak Whitemane,” she told him, composing herself now that the shivering had stopped. “Is there somewhere I can wait for him?”

“Is he expecting you?” Vilkas asked doubtfully.

“Maybe not this early in the morning,” she grinned wryly.

“But he is expecting you?”

“Yes,” she assured him.

Heaving a sigh, Vilkas waved for her to follow him, not wanting to leave her alone in the empty mead hall. If Kodlak was expecting her, he’d want her brough to him right away, and if he wasn’t, Divines only knew what she was up to.

Soft pattering footsteps followed until she caught up to him, having to take two strides for every one of his own. He glanced sideways at her. She was even shorter than Ria, barely reaching his collarbone. Redguards were known for their warriors as much as Nords were, but he’d frankly be surprised this one could even lift a war ax. His wrist was wider than her bicep.

The woman looked about curiously as he led her to Kodlak’s quarters, knocking sharply on the door and waiting for Kodlak’s slightly concerned face to appear when they opened. To his surprise, a wide grin creased the Harbringer’s face when he spotted their small guest.

“You must be Amina,” he said, opening the door fully.

“The one and only,” she grinned, the welcome lighting up the warm brown of her face.

“Come in, child,” Kodlak said warmly, stepping back for her. “Vilkas, would you mind bringing down some of the breakfast food? I’ve eaten mine already, I’m afraid.”

Giving a curt nod, Vilkas turned and left, wondering at the interaction. Kodlak obviously knew of her, but hadn’t met her yet. He’d keep an eye on things, just in case she wasn’t what the Harbringer had been led to believe. Otherwise, he had more important things to worry about, such as his twin’s odd behavior.

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

Amina watched the receding back of the warrior that had let her in and turned back to Kodlak. “Is everyone here that grumpy?” she asked worriedly.

To her relief, Kodlak laughed. “Vilkas is a serious lad. It may take a while, but he’ll warm up to you. How’s your father?”

Sitting in the chair he pulled out for her, she shook her head. “Too old for what he’s doing, but I think he’ll finally slow down now. Stepmother has been making broad hints about not wanting to lose her new husband to his own foolishness.”

“Yes, he mentioned in his letters,” Kodlak sat slowly, showing signs of aging joints. “So, you’ll be wanting the same position your mother had?”

Amina nodded. “I’m no warrior,” she affirmed. “I haven’t the reflexes or the desire for it. But I am good with potions, and a steady hand with a needle. I can keep your members well-cared for.”

“I’m sure you can,” the man said, just as the grouchy warrior from earlier walked in with enough food to feed her for the rest of the day, and possibly tomorrow’s breakfast. “While we can go over to the Temple of Kynareth, the Companions will benefit from having our own healer.”

“You’re a healer?” the younger warrior asked, skepticism in his voice. “We don’t normally have mages about.”

“I’m a physician,” she replied stiffly.

“Redguards take an even dimmer view of magecraft than we Nords do,” Kodlak reminded him. “Amina’s mother was physician to the mercenary group I worked with in Hammerfell, before I returned to Skyrim and joined the Companions. I’ve decided we could use one of our own.” He sat back and grinned at her, eyes twinkling in satisfaction, and she dimpled. The way her parents had talked of Kodlak had always made Amina feel like he was a distant, beloved uncle. He was exactly how she’d expected him to be.

The younger Nord was scowling again. “We have Tilma.”

“Tilma can’t be everything,” Kodlak remonstrated. “We don’t need any more wounds going septic because you all listen to old wives’ tales. Njada put butter on her burn, even after she was warned off!”

“Honestly, she probably did it because it was Athis that warned her off,” Vilkas capitulated.

“Butter?” Amina repeated, aghast.

“Old wives’ trick,” Kodlak shrugged. Amina just shuddered, and he laughed. “Well, then. You eat, I’ll grab some paper and write up your contract. I think you’ll do very well here, lass, very well indeed.”

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

The days quickly turned routine. Amina rose early and helped Tilma clear and wipe down the tables—clean eating surfaces prevented illness, she assured the woman, so it wasn’t strictly outside her job description—set up breakfast, brewed hangover tonics before the mercenaries staggered upstairs holding their heads and cursing themselves, then took her own breakfast out to the back porch before they could complain to her. The rest of the day was filled with ensuring her supplies were fresh and sterile, assisting Tilma keeping the place relatively picked up, and patching together various full-grown children that couldn’t resist hitting each other. She didn’t keep this opinion to herself, either. Sparing and practicing were one thing, smashing someone’s head into their tankard because they said something stupid was something else entirely.

They quickly learned to sit quietly through her brow-beating if they needed care after one of those fights.

Amina sank down onto the chair, hands soaking in the heat from her mug of strong tea. There had been a legitimate injury the night before—Athis and Torvar had taken on some bandits along some road somewhere, and the Nord had wound up with a dagger wound in this thigh she’d needed to clean, pack, and stitch—and she was worn out. Not to mention low on supplies. The tide of the Stormcloak War had shifted again, preventing shipments from reaching Whiterun along the southern road, and it was unlikely Arcadia would have everything she needed. She’d need to go gather some of it herself, which meant a trip through the plains and up to Morthal. That wasn’t a trip she wanted to make alone, not after how difficult it had been to come to Whiterun from the ship in Solitude in the first place.

Amina shivered, remembering the trolls and bears and giant spiders. No, she would not be able to face that alone.

The sound of a practice blade hitting flesh caught her attention, and she turned her head, propping her chin on her fist to watch the twins spar. They were an interesting pair, the twins; they looked so alike but their attitudes were so different. Farkas was one of the warmest and friendliest people she’d ever met, and would cheerfully come to her at the first sign of trouble with a wound and chat about what had caused it while she patched it up. Vilkas…Vilkas had never warmed to her, especially after she’d tried to give him a sleep tonic. His disinterest bordered on hostile, but she’d let it go as Farkas just getting all the pleasantness in the family.

Farkas would probably be the best choice. He’d stick by her without running off to hunt or…whatever Skjor had done last time. At least Aela brought back game. Skjor had just brought back an attitude to rival Vilkas’.

That decided, she idly worked her way through her breakfast, then went to help Tilma clean up before seeing what the local shops had to offer.

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

Vilkas stomped into Kodlak’s office, trying very hard not to come across as too belligerent, but irritated beyond belief. “Master, did Farkas take a job from you?”

Kodlak looked up from bookkeeping with a frown, “No, why?”

“He’s gone off again!” Vilkas exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He left without a word and didn’t even take a job! Where is he even going?”

The Harbringer frowned. “He didn’t tell you? That’s not like him. Has he been sneaking about?”

“No, he just walks off without telling anyone. If he takes a job he usually tells me, and he’d tell Aela or Skjor if he’d decided to run or hunt.”

“Well, that at least makes it unlikely he’s doing anything dishonorable,” Kodlak mused, returning to divvying up numbers. “It might be good for him to do things unrelated to the Companions. Keep his world from becoming too narrow.”

“I don’t like it,” Vilkas declared.

“No reason you should,” Kodlak replied humorously, chuckling at Vilkas’ look.

A light knock on the doorframe interrupted them. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, Amina,” the older Companion looked up, grin wreathing his face, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“My supplies are dangerously low and I need to go gathering for a few days,” she said regretfully. “I know it’s a bit of an imposition, but I’d like to borrow Farkas for protection.”

“Why Farkas?” Vilkas asked suspiciously.

Amina gazed at him evenly, “He sticks by me and has two words to spare now and then.”

He glowered, “Aela—”

“—vanishes at the first sign of game,” she interrupted, crossing her arms. “Do we have a problem, Vilkas?”

He blinked, surprised. “No. What gave you that idea?”

Her expression turned faintly disbelieving and Kodlak started laughing. Vilkas wasn’t sure what was so funny.

“Don’t mind him, lass, he’s just serious enough for the whole mead hall. Unfortunately, Farkas is out. Vil, why don’t you accompany her? Try to make up for your surly welcome,” the Harbringer chuckled.

The pair gazed at each other a long, moment, then Vilkas nodded curtly, “Fine. I’ll get my things.”

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

They’d been walking for hours. Amina packed bunches of tundra cotton and lavender in the large basket she had strapped to her back and tried to ignore the Nord-shaped looming thundercloud at her side. She’d attempted conversation twice, but been rebuffed both times. It seemed either Vilkas truly didn’t like talking, or he had something on his mind that irritated him all out of proportion.

“So how long have you had trouble sleeping?” she asked abruptly.

His head jerked around to give her a narrow-eyed gaze. “Why?”

“Because I’m your physician, Vilkas,” she supplied, eyes rolling heavenward for patience.

“I don’t see it’s your business.”

“I’m your physician, Vilkas,” she repeated. “It is literally my business.”

“Worry about me when I’m bleeding and not before,” he instructed, looking forward again and inhaling deeply.

Well, this was going well. She would get stuck with the absolute rudest Companion, wouldn’t she? “Getting the right amount of sleep is important,” she pressed. “Not getting enough will slow your mind and reflexes, and could make you vulnerable to illness.”

“I don’t get sick,” Vilkas replied gruffly.

Amina raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Everyone gets sick sometimes, Vilkas.”

His eyes flickered over to her, the silver-grey looking strangely yellow. “I don’t.”

Making an impatient noise, she simply repeated, “How long?”

“Years,” he finally supplied, after a pause long enough she was convinced he was ignoring her.

She bit back a comment on the clear effect it’d had on his disposition and inquired further, though getting useful responses out of him was a bit like pulling teeth. He’d had trouble sleeping since he was a teenager. It took him long to fall asleep, he slept lightly, and woke easily. He didn’t want to mess about with potions to fix it, and he definitely wanted no “soothing” smells in his room to try to quiet his brain.

“You are a very difficult patient,” Amina sighed.

“Aela informs me I am a difficult everything, so I’m not surprised,” he replied absently, then gave her a startled look when she laughed.

“That was actually funny,” she said, smiling at him. “Did you mean to make a joke?”

“Yes?” he replied, unsure. He’d simply said it; he hadn’t thought about it. But Amina was laughing again and he couldn’t help but notice how she glowed in the sunlight, her skin and clothes all warm tones that reminded him of various comfortable things: the gold of the plains in late summer, the red of late cherries, the spiced loaves of bread reserved for the deepest parts of winter, the cream of undyed wool and the deep brown of oaks. Her scent was more familiar and comforting than when she’d arrived, as well. She still had that hint of heat about her, but the lavender was overtaking it, mixed with the mountain flowers that scented her soap.

Amina was starting to smell like home, like rest and welcome, like Skyrim.

“You’re really planning to stay here, aren’t you?” he stated, only just realizing he’d expected her to buckle under the harsh lives they lived, to go find something easier and gentler to do with her life.

She looked at him like she thought he was daft. “That was the plan, yes.”

“Why?” he asked, suddenly curious. “Skyrim is very different from Hammerfell.”

“It’s certainly colder!” she exclaimed, wincing as they crested a hill and the wind hit them full force. They hastened down into the valley between rises before she fully answered. “I guess, because I’m not a child anymore, and my world became too narrow. Also, my father remarried, and while I like my stepmother alright, she’s still young enough to have children, and I didn’t want things to become awkward. Father won’t feel he’s neglecting me giving his new children the attention they need and deserve if I’m off on my own.”

“Why the Companions?” he asked, suddenly curious. He didn’t actually know much about her, her realized. Even less than he would have had she been a new whelp rather than a civilian. He glanced at her again, realizing that he had been a bit stand-offish with her, hadn’t he?

“Because he knew Kodlak,” she shrugged, then gave him a puzzled look. “Why the sudden spate of questions? Not that I mind, you were just so, er, quiet before.”

“Most people who join Jorrvaskr do not remain long,” he told her bluntly. “You are made of sterner stuff than I thought.”

“Sort of a backhanded compliment, but I’ll take it,” Amina replied drolly. It was certainly an improvement on his previous brush-offs.

Vilkas halted, brow furrowing as he caught a hint of ozone. Looking up, silver eyes scanning the skies, he cursed and reached back, grabbing her hand and starting to run. “Autumn storm,” he called back to her at her yelping question. Already, the fast-approaching thunderheads loomed on the horizon, moving fast enough they looked almost as if someone drew a thick woolen blanket over the sky. Amina glanced at it, her eyes widening, and grabbed her skirt up in her free hand, letting him drag her along and keeping up as best she could.

A cave they sometimes used as a resting point when they hunted as a pack was nearby. Vilkas wasn’t certain if they would make it before the storm, and he could feel Amina flagging behind him. Pausing just long enough to throw her over his shoulder, he reluctantly let the wolf out, just a little, his vision sharpening and his strength and speed growing.

Amina squeaked in surprise when he picked her up, but now lay quietly enough, staring at the storm swiftly approaching, eyes round at the way the pounding water flattened the grass of the tundra in seconds. “Please tell me that’s not hail.”

“Not yet,” he replied grimly, voice nearly drowned out by thunder. Amina’s dismayed cry and the feeling of her ducking close to his back was all the warning he needed that the rain had overtaken them, hitting like a waterfall and making him stumble.

The sudden lack of deluge when they burst through the cave entrance was almost as shocking as getting hit with it in the first place.

“Oh, Divines!” she swore, both of them looking back at the storm they’d just emerged from. “That’s not rain, that’s a wall.”

“More or less,” he agreed, then winced as the hail caught up with the water.

“It came out of nowhere!”

“They boil up fast,” Vilkas sighed, then realized she was still thrown over his shoulder, the heat from her hip and thigh warming the side of his face and the palm that rested on her lower back. His wolf surged within him, rocking him mentally and physically. He bit his lip and felt the prick of fangs, the pressure of his nailbeds as the reinforced leather of his gauntlets kept claws contained. Forcing his head around, he stared at the rain, drawing in a deep breath of cool, damp air, then another, until his head cleared and the pricking of his skin returned to normal goosebumps.

“Um, Vilkas?” Amina’s voice was soft and unsure, “Don’t think I’m ungrateful for you getting us here so fast, but your pauldron is bruising my stomach.”

Hastily lowering her feet to the floor, trying to ignore the way her scent mixed with the ozone and petrichor, Vilkas stepped back and looked her over. She was wincing and gently prodding her stomach, water running in rivulets down her skin, her clothing plastered to her.

He turned away so fast his shoe squealed against the stone. “I’ll get a fire going.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice higher than normal as she realized how she must look. “I’ll just…be over there,” she indicated the back of the cave, where a pillar of rock would give her some privacy, and fled to it.

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

Amina glanced around the pillar for the fifth time, shivering and trying to convince herself to get out of her wet clothes. She had an extra shift and underthings with her, but she normally wouldn’t have needed more than that. Finally, she gathered her courage and called, “Vilkas? Could you just…stay facing that way?”

Did his shoulders stiffen? She must have insulted him. “Of course,” he replied, sounding somewhat strangled.

“Thank you,” she said, wincing. She hated how high and yelping her voice sounded during all this. Her blouse clung around her breasts, the cold tightening her nipples and it was all clearly visible through the wet fabric and…It wasn’t as if no one had ever seen her naked before, but…but this was different. Vilkas wasn’t her lover, he was a crotchety near-stranger that worked for the same mercenary company as her. At least if she had to be in this situation with a man, it was one she knew prided himself on honor.

Her current shift was just dry enough to roughly towel off her hair. Predictably, she’d forgotten her comb, and could do little more than card through the masses with her fingers, rubbing the locks with the soft cloth and trying to get it as dry as possible before emerging.

“I have enough thick twine we should be able to make a line to dry our clothes on,” she told him, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Toss it here: I’ll tie it up.”

Amina sighed in relief at how calm and reasonable he sounded and did so, then froze, lips parted in surprise. Vilkas was walking around in nothing but his trousers, which were just damp enough to cling to him in interesting ways, and while she’d seen plenty of shirtless men before, they were usually either being patched up or part of the company her father belonged to, and thus practically family. The flex and bulging of muscle as he moved, reaching up to loop the twine around another pillar, the divot of his spine down his back, the line of dark hair down his navel…

Amina whirled back around the pillar and rested her back against it, feeling abruptly like an adolescent girl again. Where was her professional detachment?

Gone the same place his grumpy indifference had abruptly skipped off to, she supposed.

“You’ve been back there a while,” he noted. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” she squeaked.

“It’s not fine,” he replied, and she could hear the frown in his voice, “You sound like a mouse.”

“I…I don’t have anything decent,” she admitted, face flaming. “I just brought a spare shift.”

There was a very long pause, then the faint sound of his movements under the roar of the rain outside. “Here,” he said gruffly, and the coarse blanket from one of the bedrolls all the Companions were given appeared around the rock pillar.

The tension in her shoulders released all at once, and she gratefully pulled the heavy fabric around her. “Thank you. I seem to be saying that a lot.”

“I don’t know much about Hammerfell, but I doubt it has autumn squalls like the plains here,” he replied.

Amina peeked around the pillar, finding him sitting on his own bedroll around the fire, blanket covering his lap but apparently not cold enough to put it over those broad shoulders of his. “No, it doesn’t. Though sandstorms can come up as quickly.”

He looked up, then stopped, his mouth open slightly and a poleaxed expression on his face. “Your hair,” he said.

“What about it?” she asked, shifting and nervously tucking a bit behind her ear.

“How do you fit all that in that bun?”

Bursting into tension-shattering laughter, Amina sank down on her own bedroll, the back of her hand covering her lips but her eyes shining at him. “It compresses.” Now that she thought about it, not too many women in Skyrim had long hair. Living in a country where nearly everyone hacked off their hair to fit under a helmet really hadn’t prepared Vilkas for the gravity-defying reality of curls.

Apparently realizing he was staring at her, he shook his head. “If you want to hang up your clothing, this will hopefully have blown over by morning. We can make the pass by mid-afternoon if we’re lucky.”

“Let’s hope for luck, then,” she said, rising and hanging up her clothing. Vilkas handed her one of the few meat-stuffed buns Tilma had packed them that had survived the rain, and they both curled up in their bedrolls without further conversation, and Amina, at least, fell asleep right away.

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

She woke abruptly, her entire body jerking enough to dislodge the blanket. Confused and groggy, she looked around, wondering why her heart was hammering and skin covered in goosebumps despite the blanket and the warmth of the fire. Thunder rumbled above the rain, but not near enough to have woken her like that. Amina sat up so she could look around the fire, and stiffened.

Vilkas’ bedroll was empty.

She took a deep breath through her nose, held it, and let it out through her mouth. It was probably nothing. Nature had probably called and him moving about had awoken her. Just about convinced, she lay back down, skin still prickling with unease, and closed her eyes.

The unearthly howl that rent the night had her scrambling back up and out of her bedroll, stockings skidding a bit on the rock floor of the cave as she backed away from the entrance. Beyond, the night was pitch dark, the rain lulling to a light patter.

“Vilkas?” she called, hating the way her voice wavered. The lack of response had her swallowing, mouth dry. Was he out in that with…whatever had made that sound? It was almost like a wolf, but somehow…more. Deeper. More menacing.

Her eyes peered into the void desperately, waiting for him to walk back into the firelight. After a few minutes she realized he wasn’t coming back, unless he’d had some kind of horrible reaction to dinner she’d avoided. He might have even encountered the howling thing.

Divines preserve her, he’d probably gone out looking for it. Vilkas hadn’t quite struck her as that eager for a challenge, but perhaps it really was just a wolf? He’d want to at least scare it away from their campsite then, right? Or…or maybe he was hurt, and couldn’t make it back on his own. In that case, it was her duty to find him.

Amina swallowed again, firming her chin, and found her wool shawl, which would at least keep her warm if not dry, and pulled a good-sized branch from the fire to use as a makeshift torch. With the dubious protection of its wavering light, her shawl and her boots, she stepped out into the rain to search for the man who was supposed to be protecting her, not willing to consider too hard the possibility that he might have gotten himself injured doing just that.

The area nearest the cave mouth was clear. Starting there, she checked around every tree, just in case he was having a horrible case of the flux. Further and further into the dripping darkness she went, shivering with more than cold, a sick feeling in her stomach the longer she searched.

The pair of dead sabercats pulled her up short, staring. The flame flickered just a bit more as her hand shook. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought they had torn each other apart, but they were both facing the same way, and the clawmarks on them didn’t match their paws. The pattern of them almost looked human, with four fingers and a thumb, but far, far larger than any human hand, even if humans had claws. A bear maybe?

She realized steam was still rising from the wounds in the cold and froze, a frightened whimper passing her lips. They could not have been dead long, which meant whatever had killed them…

A growl from behind her had her turning slowly.

A head and muzzle like a wolf, but bigger. Huge shoulders just visible against the darkness, a single clawed hand splayed on the ground just within the circle of her torchlight, and brilliant yellow eyes casting their own fearsome glow.

Amina clutched her torch in front of her like a weapon. “St-stay back!” she ordered, stepping sideways around the sabercats. The head swung to follow her movement, lips pulled back to snarl at her slightly. It didn’t approach, and Amina took another step back, praying to all the Divines that she could make it back to the cave and the fire, and that it wouldn’t want to go near it.

The creature stood suddenly, towering over her, built like some kind of troll-wolf abomination. A little sound of fear escaped her, and the torch fell from hands suddenly numb with terror.

It howled and Amina whirled, fleeing toward the cave as every rational thought left her mind. In seconds, the beast caught up, knocking her to her knees and trapping her beneath it, the slick stems of a patch of lavender crushed beneath their weight. She instinctively jerked back from the jaws that snapped down where her head had just been, finding that no escape as she collided with the monster’s lap.

The snarling stopped abruptly. The quick whistle of air that replaced it made her blink, then frown. It was smelling the lavender? The chest pressed against her upper back lowered suddenly, forcing her down, no matter how she pushed against the ground. Her legs were caught against the creature’s, leaving her bottom her highest point in an awkward position that made it difficult to struggle, though she tried. She wasn’t certain why lavender had calmed it—while it was meant for calming it typically wasn’t _that_ effective!—but she’d take whatever chances she could get.

For a long moment they stayed like that, the wolf-thing trapping her against the ground, Amina too frightened and confused to move in case she set it off again. Then it shifted, and something brushed against her thighs, and for a second all she could wonder was what had intimidated this thing enough for it to hide its tail between its legs. Amina let out a startled yelp as she realized that wasn’t its tail.

Blushing, horrified as the creature rubbed itself against her inner thighs, Amina’s brain finally sputtered back into gear, and she let out a shuddering breath. Whatever this thing was, it was clearly more interested in getting off than getting lunch. As long as it didn’t decide to eat her afterwards, she could still make it through this with nothing more than a scary, embarrassing story that she never, ever planned to share. Ever.

Determined to get this over with, she took a gulp of air and closed her legs, trapping her soaked shift and what proved to be a frighteningly massive cock between them. The monster growled and sped up, apparently enjoying the pressure, giving a heaving thrust that surged it up and along her mound.

Amina yelped, face flaming, starting to tremble for an entirely different reason as the creature dragged itself through her rain-slick thighs and over her slit through the soft, soaked cloth of her shift. Thoughtlessly, she tightened her legs, pressing the hot shaft harder against her labia until every stroke wound her tighter, knowing she shouldn’t be enjoying this, but honestly, no one had touched her in so long, and Jorrvaskr wasn’t exactly a haven of privacy, and…

There was really no excuse for enjoying herself, especially when she had to admit the fear and the strangeness of it all was starting to turn her on as much as the steady rubbing. The rhythmic slap of its body against her ass and thighs felt better than she’d ever admit, and something hard at the base of its cock was pounding against her entrance, slick with more than rainwater by this point.

Her fingers dug furrows in the ground beneath her, unable to do much more, and she panted, a deep, dark part of her wondering if it would be so wrong to pull the shift up and guide the huge, pulsing spear of flesh into her? Amina shook her head as much as she could, but the thought stayed, the desire to do just that growing, until suddenly the rhythm changed, sped, became disarrayed, and the creature’s arms circled her as it slammed against her. Amina gasped for breath and came as it ground against her, sparks in her vision, and she couldn’t breathe, but the pleasure kept going before the sparks finally faded and she went limp.

⚔️ 🐺 ⚔️

Something smelled amazing. Blood and adrenaline and lavender and sex, cinders and rain and a hint of ozone. Vilkas came to shivering slightly, the predawn chill enough to make even a Nord a bit cold, especially when he was damp with rain and laying naked in the woods.

His front wasn’t cold though, and his head rested on something soft and sweet-smelling.

Vilkas realized he was curled around Amina the same moment he realized the sex scent came from them both, and wondered what the fuck had happened the night before. He didn’t recall getting drunk and dragging their little healer off anywhere. Not that he hadn’t thought about it from time to time. Then he opened his eyes and saw trees and soil and weeds, and every good feeling he’d awoken with vanished as he realized he must have lost control of the wolf.

He flung himself away from Amina, frantically looking her over. She was alive, thank the Nine, but she was pale and now shivering, her soaked shift leaving nothing to the imagination and now was not the time to be noticing that, especially when he realized it wasn’t just rainwater plastering the material to her legs.

What had he done?

Sick and weak with the possibilities, he fell back against a tree, raking his fingers through his hair to get it off his face and inhaling deeply. He’d done it more to calm himself than take in scents, but he started cataloguing them without consciously realizing it. The blood wasn’t human, and it was mostly washed away. He must have hunted something. Lavender was both the actual plant, crushed around them, and Amina herself. Cinders were the torch ten or so paces behind them, where he could just make out a sabercat corpse through the grass. The adrenaline belonged to them both…and so did the scent of pleasure.

Vilkas blinked and stared at her. He had no idea what to think of that. But the pebbled state of the bare shoulder he really shouldn’t be looking at reminded him that Amina was no Nord, and might be suffering from exposure while he tried to bring himself comfort he didn’t deserve. Still, touching her as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the cave sent thrills through him he wasn’t accustomed to. He’d never felt pleasure along his skin simply from touching someone before. Was it because his wolf was enjoying her?

He found himself snarling. The stench of her fear still clung to her, and as far as he was concerned, neither he nor his wolf should be feeling anything but guilt. That his wolf wasn’t capable of guilt, especially with the other, less objectionable scents coming off her, didn’t placate him.

Doing his damnedest to look at her as little as possible, he removed her boots and pulled the soiled shift over her head, immediately covering her in her own bedroll. Bundling the fabric up, he tossed it toward the cave mouth, where the returning rain might at least rinse it some. The cloth she’d used to gather herbs the day before was dry now, and he wrapped it loosely around the tangled curls before they could soak her pillow. Building the fire back up, he dressed slowly then laid on his own bedroll, staring at the ceiling and piecing his memories of the night together.

They’d taken shelter from the rain. They’d both been soaked and not properly dressed, and the situation’s possibilities had certainly affected both of them, even if neither was quite affected enough to do anything at that point. Still, being stuck in a small cave with an attractive woman—an attractive, _needy_ woman—that had no interest in actually acting on that impulse had been a bit much for him, and he’d left during a lull in the rain to ease things. That was when the sabercats had appeared, approach hidden by the storm, and it’d been two sabercats against an unarmored man with nothing but his dick in his hand. Honestly, the wolf had been laughing by the time he let it out.

Then Amina, against all sense and reason, had come out. And the wolf hadn’t seen Jorrvaskr’s healer, it had seen prey. She’d ran, he’d chased, and…and then somehow they’d ended up with him bent over her, all the pent-up lust he’d felt just before transforming slamming into him, and she’d closed her thighs around him and then started sounding and smelling of her own pleasure…

Vilkas moaned, hard again at the very memory, and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

Amina whimpered and stirred, and anything else he felt was drowned in a wave of anxiety. Her eyes opened slowly, groggily, frowning at his worried gaze before she froze, her face taking on a red hue. “Why am I…” she started to yelp, before memory returned and she paled.

“Your clothes were…” he gestured to where he’d thrown them, any ability with words lost.

“Did you see…” Amina looked mortified.

“I looked away. You were unconscious, but I couldn’t leave you in soaked clothes!” he stammered.

She stilled, and he realized she hadn’t been asking about changing her. She’d been asking if he saw what happened, and he got the distinct feeling she was hoping he didn’t know. Vilkas wasn’t in the habit of lying, or even telling half-truths, but he found himself blurting out the first thing he could think of to reassure her.

“I found you outside. I didn’t want you to get sick.”

“Pneumonia is bad,” she agreed, all the tension draining from her. She flopped down onto her back, rubbing her forehead and holding the covers tightly over her collarbone. “Thank you for bringing me back inside. I…must have tripped when I went out looking for you.”

“You were looking for me?” he echoed, guilt slamming into his gut.

She nodded. “You weren’t here when I woke up, and you didn’t come back. I was worried you’d gotten a flux or something. So I went to look.”

Pressing his eyes tightly shut, Vilkas rubbed his own brow, feeling a headache coming on. “I’m sorry I worried you. But please, don’t wander away from camp again. You never know what might happen.”

A few seconds passed as they both remembered what had happened. “I won’t,” she finally replied softly.

He sighed, looking up as the rain picked up again, beating down with a ferocity that killed any hope of leaving before noon. “Why don’t you get some rest and warm up? It looks like we’ll be here for a while, anyway.”

“I…okay.” He hated how subdued she sounded. Amina wasn’t a ferocious woman, not a warrior, but she wasn’t a pushover, either. She’d been badly shaken, and he was frankly frightened of the consequences.

“Vilkas?”

He forced himself to look at her. “Aye?”

“Could you please cover your eyes so I can get dressed?”

Gulping, he turned back forward, covering his eyes with one hand. “Aye.” Doing his best not to wonder what she looked like, walking around the cave in nothing but her skin, he shifted a bit to make his preoccupation less obvious. He’d wait until she fell back asleep, then spread her shift from the night before out to rinse better, and hang it up. He knew enough cooking to start some soup. And when this venture was over, he’d be sure to stay away from her, if this was the reaction she got from him. No woman deserved a wild wolf in her bed, and it was clear that around her, Vilkas wasn’t going to be able to be anything less than wild.


End file.
